


Pins and Needles

by Daiako (Achrya)



Category: Dragon Ball, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe: Planet Vegeta Exists, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Incest, Intersex, M/M, Monogendered Sayians, Mpreg (mentioned only), Multi, Planet Destruction, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Tail Sex, Tails
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 02:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Freshly released from his service to Frieza Prince Vegeta is granted two young Saiyan warriors to train, and use as he sees fit, as is the custom of Saiyans. Cabba, eager to please and serve his prince, and Katsuki, prickly and interested only in power.He means to use Frieza's treatment of him as a template but, as it turns out, 'raising' two contrasting Saiyans is harder than expected when you can't hold the fate of their entire race over their heads.  (And then there's Kakarot, which is a whole other complex matter that does nothing but make Vegeta's head hurt.)





	Pins and Needles

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: A simple tale, really, spawned by my desire for lots of dirty Saiyan sex, and maybe some smidgens of plot. I’m steadfast in my desire for Cabba as everyone’s eager toy but also wanted someone a little less...pleased with his station in life, someone prickly and angry at the world in spite of having all the power in the world and, once we set aside Vegeta because he’s got his role here, there was one very clear answer. So that’s what’s going on with the crossover/meld elements here. My original angry favorite angry boy, in the same space as my current favorite angry boy, was just too good to pass up.
> 
> Katsuki is not a Saiyan name, but we’re gonna pretend it is, and is taken from Catsear, an edible herb/green.
> 
> There are some ‘problematic’ themes here, portrayed as not at all problematic because they’re just how things are done. This includes non-con/dub-con, large age differences, sex with teenagers (Katsuki and Cabba are whatever passes for ‘of age’, or close enough, for Saiyan’s but not everyone is so upright or moral among the Saiyans.) and such. Saiyans are monogendered/monosexed, and have both sets of reproductive organs. Anyone who follows me knows that’s just a thing I like/write a lot, but I wanted to give fair warning for people who don’t know me and what I’m about.
> 
> ...I think that’s it. Anyway, the story starts in the middle. Outsider PoV, but only this one time.

 

Running a leisure space station and catering to Frieza’s army was good business. Sure, fights broke out, the place always smelled vaguely of blood and death, and he’d had to throw a body or two dozen in the incinerator in his time but the monetary gain always worked out for Zedd, and nothing else mattered. Besides, he saw all sort of interesting stuff from the varied races under Frieza’s, and the Icejins, control. 

Saiyans, in particular, were a strange lot. Often more trouble than they were worth, what with how many of the other races were out to attain revenge or challenge them for their spot as Frieza’s favorites (how anyone hoped to achieve that with a bar brawl was beyond him but he suppose when the drinks started flowing lots of bad ideas started making a lot of sense) and the Saiyan tendency to take on all comers without a thought. And they could drink more than their body weights, eat just as much, and if they weren’t fighting there was a fair chance they’d resort to fucking all over his tables and bartop. 

But they always paid their tabs, tipped well, and could often be counted on to clean up any bodies they may have dropped out of politeness. He didn’t care for everything they did, not at all, but their coin spent as well as anyone else's.

So he smiled widely when a group came swaggering into the place and directed his prettiest barboy to to bring over a round of his best fermented honey and spiced green liquors before the group had even settled at a table. This was meet with a cheer and, predictably, one of the larger Saiyan’s snagging his barboy and dragging him down into his lap. 

He wasn’t sure how much interest they would keep in the boy, considering they group had two young, pretty ones of their own with them, but it never hurt to try. There could be extra money there, if they liked the boy enough and wanted to keep him for the night, and surely two was a pain to share. Or not, usually groups only came in with one between four or five older warriors, so perhaps the two to six ratio was already a luxury. 

The older warriors were a varied lot. Three were near identical in height in build, even having the same height, build, and face. One had a long starburst shaped scar running along the side of his face, and another spikier hair and darker skin but beyond that there were no clear differences to be seen. Another, taller one, had thick dark hair past his waist.There was a shorter one, face more severe than the others, and the sixth was, for lack of a better word, massive, both tall and broad, especially in comparison to the two boys with the group.   

One looked like the typical Saiyan, if not a bit less grizzled and rough around the edges. Built smaller, thin for a Saiyan, with fair skin that was clear of any scars or marks, dark narrow eyes, and spiked up black hair with a few stray locks fanning over his forehead. He plopped onto a bench between the two largest of the other Saiyans, a beaming grin on his face as he began pouring the drinks for his fellows. His tail hung free, twitching back and forth, and silver coils spiraled around the length of it. 

The other was different from others he’d seen, a little taller and more lean, skin paler, with hair a shade of pale blond, boarding on white. His eyes were sharp, narrow and heavily lined in black, and burned red in the lowlights of the bar, with bloodshot whites. His tail, wrapped securely around his waist, was covered in fur the same color as his hair. He was sitting at the far end of the table, just out of reach of the Saiyan nearest to him, with a sour expression on his face. 

An albino, perhaps? Did Saiyans have albinos? He would have thought they were the sort of species to drop any babe seen as flawed off a mountain top but if he was honest most of what he knew about Saiyans was third or fourth hand, or based off contextless observations. They were an insular race, interested in only conquering others, and not known for giving things away to outsiders, and that showed in how little was known as a face in spite of how prominent they were in Frieza’s army.   

The whole practice of keeping a visibly younger warrior around, for example, was something he saw a lot of but had only the stories of others to put an explanation to. 

He’d heard it was commonplace to not just send their children out to conquer planets at the age most species were still teaching their children to toddle and walk properly but to take the younger ones, once they’d reached a certain age, and hand them out to units like prizes for a job well done. If he had it right the boys would be trained, taken around on bigger missions with the units to earn their place and prove themselves under the tutelage of those with more experience, and in return they...satisfied the needs of those around them. 

He couldn’t speak to the former part but he’d certainly seen enough of the latter to confirm that Saiyans had no qualms about slamming the young ones in their units down on the nearest surface and rutting with them until they were useless messes that had to be carried out. Having an audience didn’t seem to bother them much and, if he was going to make judgements, he’d say they even liked it. They drank, played, fought, and fucked like they wanted the universe to see they were beyond compare.

It was, to him, distasteful. He’d seen a fair number of such units, and the boys they kept, come through his place and sometimes how young they appeared made his stomach twist. He wouldn’t say a word about it, he had no desire to get on a Saiyan’s bad side, but it never sat right. But there were many things about other races that didn’t make sense to him, that he turned away from as long as they paid their tab. 

Tonight was unlikely to be an exception. 

It took time, and a fair amount of drinks, before things went the way he expected them to. Two of the older Saiyans had moved over to another table to take part in a card game with some of the other patrons, taking the dark haired boy with them. They pawed at him what seemed almost absently, moving him from one of their laps to the others and back, hands running over exposed skin, pulling aside armor to let fall to the floor, forgotten as soon as it was out of place. They touched his throat with fingers and lips, left bite and suck marks along the smooth column, all while pressing glass after glass of drink and bits of food to swollen red lips. The boy was flushed pink cross his nose, eyes glassy behind lowered lashes as he licked food from between the gloved fingers of the older warriors. 

The blond was summoned to the other end of the Saiyan table, after the barboy was dismissed with an absent flip of the hand, by the one the owner assumed was in charge by the say he sat at the head of the table, the shorter man with the severe face and dark upswept hair. The man made a gesture and, lips pressed into a furious frown, the blond began to peel off his armor. 

“Don’t look so upset, Katsuki. We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” The long haired Saiyan said, smirking over the rim over his glass. “Ya don’t see Cabba complaining.” 

Assuming Cabba was the other boy it didn’t seem he had much ability to complain. Now firmly seated in the lap of one Saiyan, with a thick arm curled around his waist, the boy was bent over and had his head in the other’s lap, bobbing up and down. The sound of slurping, loud enough to be heard over the swiftly quieting bar, filled the air. 

Heads were turning towards the Saiyans, gazes curious, lustful, and disgusted in near equal numbers. 

The blond scoffed but, on the receiving end of a flat look from the one who’d called him over, very pointedly returned to peeling away his dark orange jumpsuit, revealing a broad chest, abs, and, as he turned to fully face the other, a toned backside. His tail lashed behind him in agitation; copper rings slipped and clinked together. 

“On your knees.” Their leader said. He looked bored more than anything else, though his lips quirked up as the blond grimaced through obeying. “Open your mouth.”  

Lips parted as red eyes slid to the side and a blush that had nothing to be with alcohol crawled over the boys face. His face was cupped, tilted up, and white gloved fingers pushed into his mouth. They stroked over his outstretched tongue, over fangs, spread apart to forced the boy’s drool mouth wider.

“Kakarot,”  Their leader turned his gaze to the Saiyan closest to him, one of the three near identical ones. “You were...adequate today.” 

The long haired Saiyan snorted. “ _ Adequate _ . He flattened their entire defense force before they even got off the ground, alone. Hogging all the fun, again.” 

Their leader quirked an eyebrow. “Adequate. Enough to get the first go, at least.” 

The Saiyan he was looking at blinked once, eyes sliding downwards towards the kneeling boy, then shrugged. “If that’s what my prince wants. Come here Katsuki.” 

Prince? Was that literal or- 

“Make it a good show, brat.” 

The blond shifted on his knees, turned and leaned up, head bent forward and hands already sliding up the other Saiyan’s thighs. His face was the picture of reluctance but there was no hesitation in his movements or, once he’d freed the other’s impressively sized cock, the way he swooped down and swallowed it down. 

“So-”

“Do what you like Radtiz.” Their leader rolled his eyes. “Try not to make a mess of it.” 

The long haired Saiyan rose to his feet with a stretch and yawn then, lazy grin in place, prowled around the table to kneel behind the blond. 

The owner turned away, huffing out a breath. 

He was going to need to call the outside cleaners when he closed up. 

\---

 

**Before**

 

Vegeta squinted at the two younger Saiyans he’d been presented with as his prize for finishing his ‘training’ under Frieza. They were attractive, both just starting to fill out into their adult bodies and thus a little older than boys usually were when handed over to someone to be trained (Vegeta himself had been a child when Frieza had demanded him but Frieza’s tastes were...extreme, even when compared to Saiyans.) and according to the reports they both showed a lot of promise. 

One was the albino child who’d created such a stir when he’d been birthed. Vegeta’s father had wanted to dispose of him, finding him and his visible defects unsightly, but his power level and bloodline were both impressive enough to warrant the King staying his hand. He’d done well and successfully subjugated the planet he’d been sent to as a toddler, so it seemed there was to be some use to be found in him. 

The other have volunteered for this posting, claiming to be eager to serve the prince upon his return, where many others would have baulked. No one volunteered to belong to another or a squad and yet this one had, which made him a fool but with time Vegeta would break him of that, as he himself had been broken of many things. That was how the training was to work, and always had. The last vestiges of youth were trained away by someone who’d gone through the same and, one day, the boys would be warriors who took someone under their arm and did the same. 

Vegeta glanced over his shoulder at Kakarot, grinning at his guard's sour expression. Kakarot was, as always, easy to read; a weakness no one seemed to be able to beat out of the third-class, and his unhappiness was laid out plain and thick for all to see. He didn’t like to see Vegeta with others, which had been amusing and strangely endearing to the prince at first. It was a strange thing, seeing someone get angry on his behalf everytime Frieza called for him, and in the wake of it Vegeta had found himself becoming fond of the idiotic third class. Kakarot’s rage was pointless, impotent, but it was...something. 

But that anger had spread to include other Saiyans and even members of their squad. It was as if Kakarot thought them lovers, and wasn’t aware that neither of them could afford such a thing. Sex was one thing, expected even between a squad leader and his followers, but the liberties Vegeta had allowed Kakarot were another, and it becoming a...problem. 

One he would correct, before anyone else could become aware it. 

“Strip.” Vegeta turned away from them to drop down into the chair he’d been occupying before their arrival. “Let me see if I’ve been sent anything worth keeping.” 


End file.
